CS Office AU
by itsalostgirlthing
Summary: Killian's cubicle is next to Emma's. After spending a late night working, they find themselves locked in and stuck in their office. Just lots of fluff. (A Tumblr prompt I wrote a while ago)


"Psst, Emma." She hears it in back of her just like she does every day, and every day she turns around with just the slightest smile on her face because the person doing the calling is none other than Killian Jones, her cubicle neighbor in the office with a dark mop of hair, blue eyes that shine bright under the fluorescent lights above, and a smile that's downright sinful.

He should be illegal, Emma thinks to herself more often than she should.

"Psst—"

"What are we in third grade?" she says trying to keep the smile off her face, but it's hard when he's adorably leaning around the divider separating them. "What is it, Jones?"

"Do you know what today is?"

"Friday?"

"Not just any Friday," says Killian. "It's my one year anniversary since transferring to the branch and I want to celebrate with my cubicle buddy." She can't help but wonder who else in the office is planning to go and what the leggy brunette, Ruby, down the hall would be wearing out tonight. Her skirts are always too short, but damn, Emma had to give the girl credit; she had the stems to rock them.

"Can't," she says too quickly, inwardly cringing at her cowardice because she can't face the truth which is that she doesn't want to even deal with the thought of all of them going out because then Ruby will snatch the spotlight and leave Emma fiddling with the hem of her jacket off to the side—_while_ she watches Ruby flirt with Killian. "I have to stay late tonight," she says, gesturing back at the pile of papers on her tray. "Too much to catch up with."

He looks almost upset, like the spark of mischief in his eyes is gone, but then it's back in a second when he replies, "Me as well. I'm working late. So…"

"But you just said you were going out."

"Yes, _after_ I'm done working on—" he has nothing to gesture to, he realizes and clears his throat, "—some things. So we can celebrate after we're done slaving away. Sound good then?"

She's speechless and barely gives a nod before he's back in front of his computer, typing away.

She doesn't know how she'll be able to concentrate on anything tonight, and he doesn't know how many games of Minesweeper he can manage before he wants to blow his brains out from boredom.

* * *

Hours later, they're trying to unlock the hallway door. The office is pitch black aside from the glowing city high rises shining through the windows and their small desk lamps in the distance.

"Here, let me try—"

"It's no use, Emma. If _I_ can't pick the lock, then it means we're stuck here until someone notices us. Maybe we can flag down someone from across the street."

"And what? Look like crazy people? We're in New York, remember? No one's going to do a damn thing." She sighs and lets her head thud against the door. "It's locked."

"Told you so."

"What are you—nine? What're we going to do?"

"We can always try your phone again."

"No service, remember? And who doesn't pay their phone bill on time—it's the 21st century, we need phones like air."

"Says you. I hardly use the blasted thing, so I tend to forget." He glances around them, unsure of what to do because no one is picking up their phones on a Friday night and the janitor won't be back until five a.m. the next day, so—

"We're stuck for the night."

* * *

They're sitting in her cubicle. She's in her chair while he's perched up on her desk eating half a sandwich the assistant manager, David, left behind.

"Think he'll mind? He works Saturdays."

"Nah, I do it all the time," Emma smiles. Her and David are like family, but for a second she thinks she sees a slight tinge of jealousy in Killian's too-blue eyes. "Sorry we're not out on the town. What a way to spend your year anniversary. Then again, I don't know why you'd want to celebrate working here."

"I have my reasons." He shrugs, thinking about how all of them are four letter words that start with the letter 'E.' "Besides, it's my fault you're here anyway."

"What?" she says, wide eyed and covering her mouthful of sandwich.

"Come on, love. You didn't really think I would buy that whole 'staying late to work' bit, did you?"

"What're you talking about?"

"You're a horrible liar, Swan," he teases.

"Like you're not?!" she says defensively and raises an eyebrow. "I didn't believe you for a second either, buddy."

"So here we are. Locked up in an office, on a Friday night, eating David Nolan's forgotten lunch—and all because someone won't go on a date with me."

He stumps her and she doesn't know what to say except, "Date?" She stares after him as he walks over to the trash bin. "But—but how—"

"Emma Swan. When are you going to get it through that bloody stubborn head of yours?" he says, leaning against the cool metal of her cubicle. "Every time I've attempted to grab a drink or dinner or anything that's not on a thirty minute lunch break, you make up a lame excuse to get out of it." He's smiling and shaking his head, but she can see a thin layer of hurt underneath his amusement.

"You never asked me out on a date!" she says, staring up at him in confusion. "Well, you always make it sound so…"

"Swan, how many times have I asked what you're up to after work this last month?" She doesn't answer, doing the silent calculation in her head because he _has_ asked her _that_ many times before. "And how many times have you had to work late? Do laundry? Go shopping? Go out of town? Babysit—"

"Okay, okay, I get it. I'm sorry, I just—I'm not good at… This." She points between them. "Whatever this is." He pauses for a moment then bends down to swoop up her hand and pull her to her feet. She's shorter than him, but he loves it because every time she looks up to meet his gaze, the light catches every bright green facet in her eyes and it makes every worry in his mind go away.

"Let me make it clearer for you, Swan. I _like_ you, Emma. Will you please go out on a date with me?"

"What, this doesn't count? I got all dressed up for nothing," she laughs because humor is the only thing that's keeping her heart from flipping and her knees from turning into jello—because Killian Jones _likes_ her. After a year of subtle glances and office games and him stealing her potato chips while she steals his french fries, it's official.

"Will you please go out on a _proper_ date with me?" His eyes are sparkling and all she can do is say yes before moments tick by and they're inching toward each other like the silence is pushing them closer to each other. Eventually, her eyes flutter shut while his watch her lips and all she can feel his breath caressing her lips and she just wants to lean in and press them against his when—

Keys rustling. They both freeze and in comes David.

"I got your message, how come no one was picking up the phone?"

"…We didn't hear it," Emma says cooly when really it was because both of them pretended they didn't hear their salvation calling from the other room down the hallway.

"Okay." David eyes the two of them strangely and they break away from each other a little more.

Emma and Killian mumble their thanks and grab their coats, leaving the evidence of David's missing lunch in Emma's booth—he'll know where to look first tomorrow anyway.

David runs out ahead of them, determined to make it back to his wife and newborn, and Killian grabs for Emma's hand, intertwining their fingers in such a sweet and gentle gesture.

The best part, Emma doesn't make up an excuse to let him go.


End file.
